


Perhaps

by SpunkSpandex



Category: Plants vs. Zombies - Fandom
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Biting, Blood Drinking, Could be interpreted as romance, Gore, In Public, M/M, Masochism, Some sort of Romance, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 03:49:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19348900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpunkSpandex/pseuds/SpunkSpandex
Summary: A late-night feeding never hurt anyone.





	Perhaps

**Author's Note:**

> me, walking onto ao3 knowing I’m the most annoying and disgusting bitch in this fandom:

Although it was cold and dark outside, you still made it to the location specified on the note. The park was empty seeing as it was nearing midnight. You donned a thick, brown coat and a casual t-shirt on under that, as well as some nice-fitting jeans and some work boots. You took the note out of your pocket and reread it for the 20,000th time. It was dark and therefore hard to read, but the words had been engrained in your mind.

“Male human,  
Meeting with a human is normally beyond me, but I would like to ask you to be at the park at 11:30 PM on Saturday. The bench at the fountain will make a nice meeting spot, but if any pesky lurkers are about, we can relocate.  
Sincerely,  
Edgar Zomboss”

The elegance of his handwriting made your stomach churn longingly. You wanted to hear his posh British accent in your ear. You wanted his hands on your stomach, you wanted your hands on his. The thought sent a shiver down your spine.

As your cheeks became redder from these exciting thoughts, you saw his silhouette approaching you and you sat up straight.

“Your cheeks are rather red, darling,” he muttered in that posh voice of his, silkily and startlingly, “are you cold?”

You nod. He crawls into your lap.

“I’ll warm you up.”

You gulp as his hands travel up and down your chest. You hear him snigger menacingly.

“Normally I find no need for haste, but I’ve been so excited for my next feeding.”

The short zombie grabs your arm and rolls the sleeve of your coat up to your elbow. He kisses and licks your arm, the tip of his tongue traces the scabs of prior bite wounds and brings an ounce of pleasant pain.

“I’ve been waiting to taste you again. You taste so, so good.”

He grazes his teeth on your arm. He’s teasing you. You bite your lip to hold back potential sobs.

“Please bite me,” you whisper, “please.”

He chuckles at your desperation and shifts closer to lick all around the top of your forearm.

His teeth sink into your flesh without warning, using his tongue to coax a warm liquid out of the wound. Something runs down your arm to the elbow, but you don’t know if it’s his saliva or if it’s your own blood. He pulls away, only to go in for another bite. He licks the wounds and tries to lap up as much vital fluid from you as he can.

“So delectable. The taste is to die for, my sweet.”

Your cheeks get redder, and you feel yourself shifting as conflicting feelings well in your gut. He moves further up your arm, firmly biting and cutting through the skin. He licks up the blood that pours from the wounds, the small tongue poking around your human flesh driving you mad.

You squirm underneath him as he bites deeper and deeper in different places. He’s voracious, he can’t get enough of the blood. Once he’s run out of place to bite on your arm, he pulls the sleeve down and moves on to the other one.

Tears sting your eyes. You loved the pain, you loved the feeling of the cutting of flesh and the pressure, but it was still pain. He didn’t seem to care very much for your tears, he still continued to hungrily sup at the blood spilled.

By the time he’s finished, he’s covered both of your forearms in bites. The wounds are inflamed, some overlapping, and still threaten to ooze a bit.

He sighs in satisfaction and lays his head on your chest. You cautiously rub his back, eliciting a hum from the zombie.

“Simply divine. A feast for kings,” he muttered sleepily.

You laugh softly at him.

“Perhaps...”


End file.
